


Patience

by sutsop



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutsop/pseuds/sutsop
Summary: Cullen works hard to erase every memory she has of the apostate...





	Patience

Cullen Rutherford was not typically a jealous man. He knew what was his.

The apostate was long gone, leaving only damage in his wake. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, some miraculous combination of patience, meddling and luck had drawn the two of them together. He wasn’t going to waste what time they had looking over his shoulder for Solas. 

But it didn’t mean the memory was erased. 

He knew the bastard had done it on purpose. He knew he was meant to see her, fabric gathered around her waist, straddling his lap. The bare curve of her waist, his hands wrapped around it, the soft whimpering moans she made writhing against him. He had no doubt that it was a display orchestrated to bring him pain as much as the elf’s pleasure. 

It was a message -  _ she is mine. _ Confirmation that the feelings Cullen had harbored toward the Inquisitor were in vain. Her heart, and her body, belonged to another. Solas would tolerate their conversations and their chess games for her sake. But he would make sure the Commander knew his place.

_ And then that smug fuck threw it all away… _

He would be damned if he was going to waste what precious few moments they had together brooding over an old lover. But Cullen did take tremendous pleasure in imagining himself erasing every memory she had of him. 

He liked to start with his hands. Any man could think themself a master of seduction when a woman was set astride them. Any woman could imagine him so when his mouth was pressed against her. But he knew there was something far more intimate about using his hands. 

It required patience, on both their parts. Working from the outside in, he preferred it when she was wearing a dress. It was easier, to be sure. And something about unlacing and pulling down trousers was much too tempting… Once they were off, she was so much more exposed, it was too easy to slip down one more piece and give himself over to her. But with a dress, he could push his hand underneath, unseen. She couldn’t watch, only feel. His hand sliding underneath the fabric, slowly moving up her thigh. 

The smalls were the next barrier. Sometimes she was an absolute menace and wore none at all. But he liked it better when she did. Most men would simply push down from the top, fumbling their way in. He knew that anticipation was half the game. Slowly stroking his fingers over the fabric, a featherlight touch. That was when her lips would fall open, red and flushed. Her breath would hitch, and her beautiful blue eyes were fixed on his. The thin layer of cotton, or better still silk, slowly becoming wetter to the touch. Then he knew she was ready. 

He always came in from the side. Hooking the edge of the fabric with one hand, slowly pulling it away. And then the other hand was free to seek out its prize. Never too eager, though. A light touch was still required. Stroking the tips of his fingers lightly up and down the edge of her folds. Full and deep pink, he was rougher with them when he used his mouth. But his hands were always gentle in the beginning. Working his middle finger a bit deeper, and his thumb a bit higher. Carefully moving his way nearer to that little bundle of nerves. 

This is where it became more complicated - when she moved her hips, trying to force him to make his move, trying to fuck his hand and bring herself the release that he still denied her. Her back would arch, and lowering his mouth onto the hard, rosy peaks of her breasts was entirely too tempting. But this is also where he had the advantage over the apostate. Years of training, years of patience, repetition, _discipline_. He could drag this out for ages. 

He could wait. 

And so he did, with a single finger pressed just inside her entrance, his lips hovering over hers. Close enough to kiss, but he wanted to hear the words,  _ feel  _ the words against his own mouth. He wanted to taste the need from her own tongue, so that he could push himself inside the moment she spoke it. 

_ Please. _

He was a gentleman, and when a lady asked, he always gave her what she wanted. Especially when she was dripping wet with need. A single finger, pushed swiftly inside of her. If the little moans before were a chorus, the gasp she made at that moment was a fucking  _ symphony _ . That was why he liked using his hands - he could feel it, hear it, taste it, see it written before his very eyes. He could see how grateful she was for his strong fingers - one of his easily as thick as two of the elf’s. 

But one was never enough for very long. His index finger invariably joined soon after, and that was when she became insistent. She opened her legs wider, tilting her hips forward to guide him further in. This was when he quickened his pace, pushing her closer to the edge. There was something immensely gratifying in the wet, slapping sound his fingers made pumping into her. 

She’d close her eyes then, lost to sight and sound, absorbed in the pleasure he gave her. This is when he pushed deep, angling his fingers to find the spot. He could feel the slightest difference - just a little rougher than the surrounding flesh. But when he grazed over it, the words that poured forth from her were indecent. 

_ Fuck me. Fuck me faster. Fuck me harder. _

He would, later. He would slide in, bury himself, and bring her to this point again. For now though, he crooked his fingers and rubbed until she was teetering just on the brink. Almost there, but still not quite. That was when his thumb swept up and took her by surprise. Pressing and gliding, not  _ too _ insistent, nor too soft. All three moving in sync, little effort was required at that point - but a great deal of precision. 

_ Yes. _

He liked to pull away just then, so he could watch. So he could  _ see. _ Smiling, his mouth formed into a perfect “ah”, as she broke around him. Limp in his arms, no real words, just moaning and gasping breath. Slowly stroking the last of the orgasm from her, that was how she saw him when she opened her eyes again - smiling. 

That was what she thought of when she came -  _ him. _ Cullen. 

Grinning and a little giddy, she always pulled him down. It was good -  _ Gods was it ever good,  _ she assured him. But it was never quite enough. She wanted to see him, sweaty and desperate and grasping on top of her. She wanted to see him just as unraveled as she had been, so when she came again, she knew he would fall right after. 

And Cullen Rutherford was an obliging man. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
